


Lambs to Slaughter

by Schreiberin



Category: Niels & Gang (Webcomic), Secret Agent Men (Webcomic)
Genre: Agent Fluff, Field work, M/M, Teamwork!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schreiberin/pseuds/Schreiberin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another snapshot of 250 and 300's lives as agents.<br/>Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lambs to Slaughter

“Damn, I'm out of ammo,” whispers Agent 250 as he drops the empty clip out of his gun, “how about you?” 

300 fishes around his rucksack and pulls out a clip, holding it out to the older man. “Here’s my spare,” he pauses to check his own gun, ”I’m down to four shots. I’m pretty sure there are only six guys left, so between you and me, we should have enough ammo.”

250 takes the clip from his partner. “The sun’s just coming up, so we'll have that to our advantage,” 250 says, pulling his balaklava off his head. “We can do this with thirteen rounds between us. We just need to get their attention and pick them off.”

He checks the clip and removes 3 bullets, which he hands to 300. “Take these, in case we get split up.” 300 nods, and he begins to slide the bullets into his clip.

A soft, crunching noise catches their attention and they freeze. 250 fires off a shot into the woods to their right, and seconds later they hear something crash into the leaf litter. 

Five men left, now. 

“I think they're going to try to flank us. He,” 250 tips his head towards the downed man, “was the scout- and probably was able to drop them a little intel before I hit him. We’re going to have to take up a new position, and soon.”

300 starts to look worried. “Listen, if we don’t make it out of this, I just want you to know that I think we’re a great team. I don’t think anyone expected us to get this far.” He looks at his partner and gives him a small smile. 

250 grins back at the younger man. “Don’t worry, Fancy Pants. We’re not done for just yet. I may not be Section S material any more, but I do remember a few tricks that will save our asses.”

He quietly re-positions himself so he can see behind the rock outcropping they are hidden behind. Scanning the small clearing ahead of him, he can make out a few bodies of the men who had tried a straightforward rush towards the outcropping. Such a foolhardy attempt had made it easy for the agents to take them down. 

Seeing no further hazards, 250 turns back to 300 and gives him a quick kiss. His hand lingers on 300’s cheek for just a moment before he goes back into special ops mode.

“We’re going to have to split up. They’re not going to come straight at us again, and we don’t have enough cover to make an effective rush, ourselves,” he draws a rough diagram in the dirt with his finger, “if you cut across here and stick to the left, I’ll cover you then head to the right. The sun is behind us, that will help conceal us a little.”

300 nods. “So, basically, you want for us to try and counter flank them? Is that possible for a two man team?”

“With you as my partner, anything is possible,” 250 replies with a smirk. 300 catches his gaze and reaches out for his hand.

They sit in silence, hands intertwined, waiting for a few minutes behind the rock outcropping for the sun to rise a few more feet. 

*************************

250 releases 300’s hand with a quick squeeze, “It’s time to go.”  
The men quietly get up from their sitting positions and finish readying their gear. “You still have your little gadgets on you? Just in case?” asks 250.

“Always. I never know when Niels will catch me unawares. But, we’ll be fine. It’s only five guys. We’ll hardly break a sweat taking them out, really,” 300 jokes. 

“Well, I’m set. You ready?” 

“Just about...” 300 crams a bottle of water into his rucksack, “okay. Ready.”

300 checks his weapon, hikes the rucksack onto his shoulder and proceeds to buckle the straps down. 250 comes over and makes minor adjustments to the pack, checking that it is secure and won't become a hindrance.

Once 250 is satisfied that 300 is fully prepared, he grasps the younger man by the shoulder and spins him around until they are face to face. He grabs the back of 300’s head and pulls him in for a fierce kiss.

“Go,” he says gruffly, breaking away from 300, “I’ll cover you.”

300 nods and peers around the left side of the rock outcropping. Seeing nothing, he darts into the clearing and runs full out for the cover of the trees. Once he is secure behind a large tree, he motions for 250 to begin his run to the trees. 

Gathering up his gear, he glances back to 300 who is making a little “get on with it, already” gestures with his hand. The older agent smirks and checks the clearing. 

He stealthily makes his way out from the outcropping and he is just about to the edge of the clearing when a shot rings out. Not stopping to see where it came from, he sprints the rest of the way into the dense thicket and quickly scales a sturdy looking tree. 

From his new position he can see a body lying on the ground not more than fifty feet from where he is now located. His lips curl up in a satisfied grin at his partner. There really isn't anything that man can’t do. 

He pulls out his binoculars and locates 300 on the other side of the clearing. He’s picking his way forward through the trees and manages to stay fairly concealed. He watches for a few more seconds, confident that the skirmish will be over soon. 

He wants a cold beer, and a hot shower. Beyond that, he wants nothing more than to fall asleep in his own bed, with his boyfriend tucked in his arms, knowing they are both safe and together. 

A sudden crack breaks him from his thoughts. He’s overextended himself on the small branch and it falls away from the tree with a crash. 250 follows seconds later and lands face down, knocking the air from his lungs. 

He lies there for a few minutes, sucking in air, trying to regain a steady pattern of breathing. Once he is able to breathe without the hitching pain in his chest he takes a mental inventory of himself.

He wriggles his feet and legs. Nothing wrong there. 

He goes to push himself off the ground and yells out. He pauses a moment to catch his breath again. Closing his eyes, he counts to ten then rolls himself to a sitting position.

“Damn it all!” he hisses.

His wrist is broken.

Shooting will be a bit more difficult now, but at least he has a handgun and not a rifle, and he is a fair shot with his left hand, any Section S agent would need to be.

Sighing, he struggles into a standing position and begins to make his way to the front of the circle of trees. He can’t let 300 down. Not when he has already disappointed himself.

*************************

Across the clearing, 300 pauses for a moment as he thinks he hears a familiar sound echo across the empty space.

250\. 

His instincts urge him to go back and check his partner. His training, however, demands that he stay his course and complete his mission. 

He darts forward again, his feet hardly making a noise in the fallen spring leaves until he catches movement in front of of the stand of trees. 

300 slides to a stop behind the closest tree and waits. Seconds later, a man in camouflage fatigues walks by. 

He doesn't notice 300, and he continues walking past the tree, whistling a tune to himself. 300 pulls a thin length of cord from his cuff link and stalks behind the the man. He readies the garrotte in his hands and takes a quick breath.

In a flash of movement he has the nylon cord around the other man’s neck. He braces his knee against the man’s back and pulls back as hard as he can. The man grasps at his throat, twisting and trying to dislodge his assailant. 300 keeps out of his reach and tries to keep quiet. The man fights for another minute, then with a gurgling noise, slumps to the forest floor dead. 

 

*************************

250 makes progress in reaching the westernmost point of the forest. He pauses for a moment and wriggles the fingers of his right hand. The pain is nauseating and the lack of sensation in his pinky finger bothers him greatly but he doesn't have the time or energy to try and splint the broken appendage. It will have to wait. 

After all, he survived an almost head on grenade blast. This is nothing in comparison.

He continues on until he hears the faint sounds of conversation coming from up ahead. He slows his movements and conceals himself behind a fallen log. 

Three men huddle around a small radio, speaking quickly in some Slavic language 250 is unfamiliar with. One of the men keeps looking around as if he were waiting for someone to return. 

The conversation quickly turns into angry whispers and gestures, which culminates in two of the men stalking off towards the south. 

Towards 300.

Shit.

250 allows them a few minutes to walk further away before he makes his way over to the remaining man who is crouched in front of the radio, fiddling with the tuner. 

The man never hears a thing as 250 sneaks up and dispatches him with a single shot to the back of the head. 

 

*************************

300 retracts the garrotte and takes a moment to compose himself for his next move.

After he catches his breath, he drags the man’s body to the base of a large tree, and methodically begins to search the dead man, removing anything that may be of value during the mission. 

He pauses a moment to think about 250. _Is he alright? What happened to him earlier?_  
300 is so absorbed with these questions that he fails to hear the two men who have come upon him. 

“Cowboy! Your hands - put up now!” yells the more burly of the two, his gun pointed at 300’s head.

300 feels like an idiot, getting caught so easily. Carelessness is not going to help him, or 250 in the long run.

He carefully blanks his face as he stands up and puts his hands in the air. 

The younger of the two men walks over, takes 300’s gun, removes his rucksack and handcuffs his hands behind his back. Satisfied that 300 is disarmed and secure, he then lets loose a vicious right hook which catches 300 in the nose and knocks him to the ground.

“That was for Visvaldis.”

300 is certain that at least one rib is broken as the two men proceed to kick and punch him, then after a minute, unconsciousness takes him and he knows nothing more.

 

 

*************************

250 catches up to the two men as they drag the unconscious body of 300 back to camp between them. 

He holds back his rage just long enough to allow his training to reassert itself and he slowly follows the men, waiting for an opening to check on 300 and eliminate his targets. 

He doesn't have to wait for long. 

When the men reach the camp, they notice their friend laying at the feet of the radio. 300 is dumped unceremoniously on the ground as the men rush to help their compatriot.

“Darijus!!!” yells one of the men, as he rushes to the body. 

250 takes advantage of the confusion and picks the men off while their attention is focused on something other than 300. 

Mission complete, his focus turns to his partner.

*************************

300 awakens to a cool and gentle touch on his forehead. His eyes flutter open and he lets loose a soft sigh as 250’s face snaps into focus.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

250 is crouched over him, and his look of worry fades into a bright smile. 

“I called for an extract, we’re done here. We’ll have you home soon.”

300 closes his eyes. “I’m glad you’re okay. I heard you yell earlier and I got worried.”

“Oh, that? I’m okay. Broke my wrist, I think.”

“Maybe they’ll give us the same room in the hospital, huh?”

“Maybe. Do you think you can manage to sit up? I need you to drink some water”

300 struggles to sit up, but the pain in his ribs causes him to gasp sharply. 250 quickly helps him lower himself back to the ground.

“Sorry, can we try that again a little slower?”

250 brushes the sweaty hair from 300’s brow and places a single kiss there.

“Of course. Try to exhale as you sit up. It’ll hurt less and ease some of the pressure.”

300 tries again and manages to sit up this time. He takes several slow sips from the water bottle in 250’s hand. 

The pain causes him to pant a little and he turns his head from the bottle, indicating he is done for the moment.

As 250 pulls the bottle away, 300 suddenly grasps his shoulders and flips the older man over until he is straddled above him.

“What the fuck?” yells 250.

300 grabs a gun from 250’s shoulder holster and fires off several rounds, killing the lone gunman at the edge of the woods to their left. 

“Sorry, I miscounted, there were seven,” smirks 300 just before he passes out on top of 250.

250 closes his eyes and rests his good arm protectively over 300’s back.

The sound of the approaching helicopter makes him smile. They are safe.

All he needs now is that beer.


End file.
